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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23490190">Pandora's (In)box</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TallDarkAndAnxious/pseuds/TallDarkAndAnxious'>TallDarkAndAnxious</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>MacGyver (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Email Correspondence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Flirting, Gen, Good dad! Murdoc, I'm gonna leave the tags now, It will definitely get sexy at some point, It will not be directed at Mac, M/M, Mac/Murdoc is going to be violence free- except if they're into that, Maybe it will get sexy at some point, Maybe we'll toss in some other forms of communication after a certain point, Morally Ambiguous Character, Multi, Murdoc is here and therefore there will be some form of violence in here, Oh who are we kidding, Secrets, Snark, So Much Snark, There will definitely be a lot of flirting, This Fic Has Everything, they probably are</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 09:15:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,696</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23490190</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TallDarkAndAnxious/pseuds/TallDarkAndAnxious</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Murdoc and Mac have more in common then (well, Mac) would like to admit to. Mac feels something when he’s with Murdoc. Something he won’t touch due to a case of denial, and analyzing his complex emotions for a world-renowned assassin isn't something he wants to run by the Phoenix department therapist. </p><p>When Murdoc starts communicating with Mac after his escape with Cassian after the events of (S2E15 Murdoc+Handcuffs), Mac decides to keep the correspondence to himself instead of reporting it to Phoenix. This shall be interesting.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Angus MacGyver/Murdoc (MacGyver TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>82</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>148</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Can you blame him? He was bored, OK?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This work takes place after the events of Season 2 Episode 15: Murdoc+Handcuffs. Keeping with Season 2 casting,  Jack is still with the Phoenix and will remain with them for the duration of the story. Riley, Bozer, and Matty make up the rest of the team. I haven't decided on if I will work other characters from Season 2 onwards into the story yet, and if so how I will accomplish that. </p><p>My story will diverge from the main canon storyline in several ways, mainly relating to larger storylines and how characters enter and exit in terms of the show. </p><p>The story is going to be more focused on character interaction between Mac and Murdoc than any outside plots. It may develop into something more relating to outside plot, but at the moment it's all Murdoc/Mac.</p><p>Murdoc's not gonna kill Jill, by the way. We're going to pretend that didn't happen (at this time in the season it actually didn't happen, so there you go). He still did shoot Cage though, so he's still as morally gray as we all know him to be.</p><p>Honestly, I don't have much laid out. We're winging this.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Boredom didn’t suit Mac</p><p> </p><p>His brain operated at the speed of sound and having nothing to act as the focus of all that brainpower usually resulted in charred toolsheds and nuked football fields.</p><p> </p><p>The blonde Phoenix agent was rocking a sling as a result of his bullet wound, courtesy of Murdoc during their last train wreck of a mission. Jack had tried to sign it before Matty explained you only do that with casts and not slings, but Mac let him anyway. After that necessary bit of comedy in the medical wing of Phoenix, Matty killed the comedic air in the room by benching him for two weeks to recover before he was allowed back into the building.</p><p> </p><p>That left him sitting in his empty home, trying to keep busy until he was released from his house-shaped purgatory. Jack, Riley, and Bozer were on a mission right now in Rome and that’s all Matty would allow them to tell him. It was an effort to limit his possible meddling. Since the consequence for violating her rule was a six-month stint in Alaska doing god knows what, it worked. Needless to say, he wasn’t thrilled, but he knew it was because they cared. So he took it on the chin and delved into some academic projects he had lying around his work table.</p><p>Mac was about to turn on the TV for background noise as he fiddled with a DARPA project he was assisting on when his laptop made a chirping noise. Said noise alerted him to an email on his personal account. He absentmindedly opened it, expecting a threat from Matty regarding potential ‘meddling’ in response to a check-in text he sent the team.</p><p> </p><p>That isn’t what the email was, though.</p><p> </p><p>The email address was new to him, but he knew who it was from the second he saw it and remembered Jack’s most prevalent nickname for their foe.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>TO: Mac_Gyver@sendmail.com</strong> </span><br/>
<span class="u"> <strong>FROM:TheDoc@q-mail.com</strong> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>MacGyver!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>How is sunny Los Angeles? I hope it’s treating you well and not boring you. Although I’m sure boredom results in some very exciting and explosive things for you! ;)</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Cassian and I are doing splendidly. He’s going to be enrolled in a lovely boarding school once the summer ends. Hoping to spend as much time with him as I can until then.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Have any suggestions on some activities for us?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Fondly,</em><br/>
<em>Murdoc</em>
</p><p> </p><p>After Mac processed this email, it took him a few seconds to return his shaking hand back to the keys. Of course, Murdoc couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie. He’d gotten out, gotten his son out with him. They were free, Phoenix had no clue where they were. So why did he do this? Why the possible lead to find them? A taunt? A cry for attention? Boredom? Likely all three, Murdoc isn’t the type of man to do things for a single purpose. That would be too simple for someone with his twisted brain to be satisfied with.</p><p> </p><p>Mac kept reading those same few lines over and over again until he could recite them backward if he wanted to. He didn’t know what he would plan to do. He knew what the right thing was ( Forward it to Riley so she could run a trace). He also knew several wrong things to do, including but not limited to (Send it to spam, Reply back, Throw his laptop out a window and pretend Murdoc’s email never graced his inbox with its presence).</p><p> </p><p>The least intelligent of those options was to reply back, but that is what Mac did.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>FROM:Mac_Gyver@sendmail.com</strong> </span><br/>
<span class="u"> <strong>TO:TheDoc@q-mail.com</strong> </span>
</p>
<ol>
<li><em>How did you get my email?</em></li>
<li><em>None of your business</em></li>
<li><em>Good for you </em></li>
<li><em>I could provide more accurate suggestions if you tell me where you are. Some agents could drop off a puzzle.</em></li>
</ol><p>
  <em>-MG</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Mac realized that replying to Murdoc’s email would likely result in nothing good. It would likely only gain him a verbal throat slashing from Maddy when she found out, and a newly invigorated psychopath pen pal because MacGyver added fuel to the fire. He didn’t really comprehend that until after the email had left his inbox, and the metaphorical lid came off of Pandora's box.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The pen-pal from hell</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Promises are made, to each other and to themselves.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for the kudos, comments, and even a bookmark! Please keep the feedback coming. Updates will be sporadic, but I'm determined to make this story and find out where it ends.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>MacGyver’s finger was going to cramp from hitting the refresh button every minute on his inbox. The constant refreshing reminded him of when he was waiting for emails from his high school crush as Bozer laughed at him so hard he almost fell off Mac’s bed. He shut down the comparison of Murdoc to his high school crush as soon as it popped into his head, and doubted Bozer would be laughing at the situation if he knew whose email he was waiting for now. </p><p> </p><p>After 10 minutes of near-constant refreshing, he saw a new reply from Murdoc.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">TO: Mac_Gyver@sendmail.com</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">FROM:TheDoc<a href="mailto:D.Murdoc@sendmail.com">@</a>q-mail.com</span> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Wow! You actually replied, Angus. Lucky me! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Unfortunately, I’ll have to accept broad recommendations from you regarding some father/son activities for Cassian and I. Can’t have Phoenix intruding on our bonding time. Nothing personal. </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> How is that shoulder wound healing up? I’ve had several of those and they can be annoying. You forget it’s there, then move one wrong muscle and oops, that stings! </em> <em> Although I suppose it is better than a shotgun blast to the head from Helman.  </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I’ll admit I am curious about that pain tolerance of yours. I mean, you were Army EOD and then a covert operative. It has to be high, doesn't it? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Toss me some recommendations for my son and I, and in return I’ll give you some to keep you busy as you recover! It’ll be fun. I’m very good at these sorts of things.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Fondly,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Murdoc </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Mac actually had to get up from his seat and paced around his room before even considering replying. Thus was the Murdoc effect, he supposed. He had an angel and a devil on his shoulder. His angel was Phoenix, his obligation to the country and his team to lock Murdoc up for the rest of his life. Murdoc definitely deserved to be in a cell, no doubt about that. For some reason though, that wasn’t enough to make him pick up the phone and call Phoenix. It would have been in the past, he knew that. Mac didn’t know why he couldn’t do it now. All he could come up with was the devil on his shoulder making him do it. </p><p> </p><p>His devil was working more like a siren at the moment. Singing in Mac’s ear, reminding him he’s a scientist. He needs data to understand why he feels this pull, this fascination, with the assassin. Mac can’t have his data if he delivers their correspondence to Riley, and then he’d leave this mystery unsolved, lost to Mac for good. It was selfish, Mac can already feel his stomach churning with guilt. He knows what he’s going to do, even if it may destroy him, and others, in the long run.</p><p> </p><p>He lets out a groan that is more like a scream and then stomps back to his laptop.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>FROM:Mac_Gyver@sendmail.com</strong> </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>TO:TheDoc<a href="mailto:D.Murdoc@sendmail.com">@q-mail.com</a></strong> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Listen. If we’re keeping this up then I need you to make me a promise. As long as we’re emailing, you won’t kill anyone. I know you don’t need the money, so don’t give me that. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Promise me, and we can keep talking. Say no, and I turn these over to Riley and Phoenix. If you lie to me and I see any kills that look like yours, I’ll make you regret it. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>   -MG </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He doesn't have to wait long for a reply. </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>TO: Mac_Gyver@sendmail.com</strong> </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>FROM:TheDoc<a href="mailto:D.Murdoc@sendmail.com">@</a>q-mail.com</strong> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Of course Angus, you have my word.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I value your correspondence much more than a few measly contracts.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I can’t wait to figure out why you’re doing this, it’s going to be fascinating.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> How about now you answer my questions in the previous email, since we’re officially pen pals now. How fun! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Fondly,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Murdoc.  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Mac let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. At least now he can do this without endangering anyone else. His angel whispered into his ear, although the words had the weight of a cinder block. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Now you’re helping him evade justice. His victims. Their families.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He shot Cage, tried to kill your team. You too.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Mac slapped his hand down on the table next to his laptop, sounds of metal clinking radiating through the air. In that moment, two sides warring in him for moral dominance, he made a promise to himself. </p><p> </p><p>The second he knew what he felt for Murdoc, those emails were going to Phoenix. He’ll accept any punishment they give him, and Murdoc will go into a cage. After he figures out what this mercenary, this psychopath, this killer is doing to his emotions. He needs to know why Murdoc draws him in, like a poisonous flower you know you shouldn’t touch, but can’t resist doing.</p><p> </p><p>Mac pens his response to Murdoc, not paying attention to how his hand isn’t really shaking anymore. </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>FROM:Mac_Gyver@sendmail.com</strong> </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>TO:TheDoc<a href="mailto:D.Murdoc@sendmail.com">@q-mail.com</a></strong> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Fine.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> My dad and I liked to build things together. Motorized toy cars and things like that. If you don’t think Cassian is ready for that then maybe try Lego sets.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The shoulder is healing well. Only moved it the wrong way once, won’t make that mistake again.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I bet you have an ulterior motive for this question. I’ll answer anyway since I’ve already committed to this stupid decision. I have a high pain tolerance. I can usually work through the pain I have, but I am only human. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> -MG </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Mac ran the hand he could through his golden locks and read his last line over and over to himself. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> But I am only human </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Mac was only human. Murdoc wasn’t. He was a species of his own, and Mac was the one he was locked onto. Mac didn’t know what that entailed. </p><p> </p><p>What he did know was that he was locked onto Murdoc the same way. </p><p> </p><p>Time to discover what that meant.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Wet n' Wild</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is getting into M level territory. Fair warning, a shower jack-off session is ahead of ya'll.  Going to change the fic rating to reflect that.</p><p>I'm pretty proud of this chapter, let me know what you think. </p><p>So thankful for the support! If you want more, keep those kudos, comments, and bookmarks coming!</p><p>I try to update as soon as possible, but I am a double major college student so homework has to come before my enemies to lovers fanfiction (unfortunately).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Mac spent the night tossing and turning. It wasn’t uncommon for him, necessarily. During the day his brain was insanely active. So during the night, while his brain rested, his body took over. The pain of his shoulder wound jolted him awake several times throughout the night, and around 4AM he surrendered himself to the morning. His daily schedule usually began with a run on a local jogging path, but given his injury, he had to omit that. He loathed to part from his routine, but he knew he’d heal faster if he just laid off the workout for a bit longer. Instead, he replaced his working out with an early morning shower, some soft rock music blaring from his cellphone as he let the tiny pressurized water droplets wake up his still-tired body. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He ran his long fingers through the errant strands of wet blond hair that blocked his vision. He let his hand trail down his body until it rested on his slow hardening dick. He complies with his body’s desire, running his hand up and down his member. He let his mind wander and the images came at him like a snake, striking at him rapidly and without warning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A flash of a face- dark raven hair, a chiseled jawline, sharp smile, eyes with dark promises in them</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Muscles subtly bulging against that leather jacket he wore</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His fucking voice, taunting him, teasing him, getting his blood flowing like nothing else</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mac let out a pained moan and placed his hands on the wet tile wall, his shoulder twinging mildly in protest. The agent was trying to draw his thoughts back to a safe line of thinking but failed. His dick was fully erect, throbbing persistently against his stomach. He felt his control wearing thin. With a sound mixing between a frustrated shout and a whimper of pleasure, one hand slid down the wall shower wall and back onto his leaking dick. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Murdoc leaning against the bathroom wall, watching Mac fall apart to thoughts of him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shedding his clothes, revealing a body of lean muscle that he’d honed into a killing machine. Mac whimpered and nearly came right there</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Murdoc walking with purpose, like a lion approaching a gazelle, joining Mac under the hot spray</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Pushing Mac against the wall with a single hand, his lips teasing his ear.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I know you want me, Angus, say it. Tell me what you want me to do” he said, his voice dark with tight arousal, but still retaining that maniacal joy Mac had come to find so damn sexy.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His hand burning like a hot brand against Mac’s chest, his thumb teasing Mac’s nipple.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Murdoc’s lips started to kiss on his neck, occasionally nipping, lighting up his body with sparks of arousal.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I...I want it. Please. Fuck me” Mac managed to whimper out and Murdoc’s grin went predatory, more than usual. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He spun Mac around, one hand prepping him, the other tracing down his body until it landed on his member…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Mac’s fantasy could go any further, his body betrayed him and he came into his own fist with a half moan-half scream.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once he returned to himself, the water starting to run mildly cold, he groaned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What the actual fuck had he just done.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mac tossed on a grey MIT shirt and some mildly worn-out blue jeans. He made a quick breakfast and brought his laptop with him to the kitchen island. His heart gave a weird lurch when he saw a new email waiting for his inbox and he nearly choked on his cereal. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Chill out, man. It’s just the wanted assassin who’s tried to kill you and your friends. You know, the guy you jacked off to in the shower? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He thought to himself, and rubbed his face with his hand, opening the email after a moment of doubt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>TO: Mac_Gyver@sendmail.com</strong>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>FROM:TheDoc<a href="mailto:D.Murdoc@sendmail.com">@</a>q-mail.com</strong>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, well, well Angus! When I saw I had an email waiting from you I was positively delighted! </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And all these juicy answers, it’s like Christmas, my birthday, and a contract in a tropical location all rolled into one!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I took Cassian to the Lego store today and he positively loved the sets he picked out. We’re currently working on one, a model of the Sydney opera house. He’s enjoying it immensely, as am I. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh MacGyver! How you wound me with that assumption. My reasons for inquiring about your pain tolerance came from innocent curiosity. I did expect your answer. I share your level of tolerance, although it is likely mine may be higher than yours (not to brag, of course). </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Your turn to ask some questions now! I promise to be completely honest. However, be careful with what you want to know ;)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fondly, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Murdoc</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac shook his head exasperatedly, Murdoc would be an emoji kind of guy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pondered on the last line. So many possibilities for what he could ask Murdoc, and presumably he’d get an honest response. He’d never fully believe that, so no matter what he’d take Murdoc’s responses with a grain of salt. The lies Murdoc wove were like an art form to the psychopath, he enjoyed creating them too much to settle for reality. However, Mac thinks he enjoys the act of corrupting him via this forbidden communication more than he enjoyed the lies. The odds of Murdoc being truthful were higher in this scenario then they would be normally. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He went soft with his questions, basic things and nothing too serious. Not what he would ask if he was confident. Questions like, do you like men? What does it take to make you lose control? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>FROM:Mac_Gyver@sendmail.com</strong>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>TO:TheDoc<a href="mailto:D.Murdoc@sendmail.com">@q-mail.com</a></strong>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, from experience I have doubts about your honesty, but I think you’re enjoying this too much to lie to me. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Here are my questions, on the assumption you’ll answer honestly. They’re not anything too severe, like your body count or anything. Just some random get-to-know you’s that came to my mind.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Got any tattoos? If so, how many and of what? I can see you as a tattoo guy, for some reason.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Favorite subject in high school?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Play any sports growing up?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-Mac</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac almost wanted to add, a ‘looking forward to hearing back’ but settled for signing his name instead of his typical initials. Baby steps. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, Mac, baby steps. First jack off to the guy pounding you in the shower, then sign your emails to him with your name instead of initials. You wouldn’t want to go out of order here.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mac hit send, that shower scenario crawling back into his head. Mac closed his laptop, cranked up the music on his stereo and went over to his current DARPA project. He’d try to channel this energy into something more productive.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Call of the Void</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Mac decides to take the plunge. </p><p>Next chapter will switch to Murdoc's POV, and it will be a very fun time. </p><p>Likes, comments, and bookmarks mean the world to me! Let me know if you're liking the fic!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mac worked on his project until his fingers began to cramp and his shoulder wound started aching. By then the sun had begun to disappear from the sky and give way to the night. Mac stood up from his work table, stretching out his muscles that were sore from lack of use the past few hours. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and lit the fire pit on his deck to combat the cooling night air. He collapsed onto the wooden bench framing the pit. The outside air drained the tension from his body and cleared the stress from his mind.</p><p> </p><p>Mac took a swig of the beer, pondering the events of the past two days. He needed to lay this out, try and figure out where this was going.  Mac knew he’d ramped up the cat and mouse game he had going with Murdoc to a point where he didn’t even know where this could potentially lead. Before the mission to exchange Murdoc for cash from the Collective, before the emails and this <em> attraction </em>, he knew there were only two options. Murdoc wins their game by finally killing him, or he wins by locking Murdoc in a cell. Now he had no clue where this was going. He’d thrown the script out the window and into the void. </p><p> </p><p>Mac broke this complex problem down the best he could. He had agreed to correspond with Murdoc because he felt an unexplainable pull towards the man, and he needed to get more information to understand why he was drawn to him. After his moment in the shower, imagining his foe in ways that he could only describe as feeling <em> right </em> and he kept feeling the pull to lower his defenses in these emails. He wanted more from Murdoc, as much as the man was willing to give him. </p><p> </p><p>Mac was about to take another sip of beer, but decided against it. He had too much on his mind, no need to add alcohol into the mix. </p><p> </p><p>This wasn’t the first time he had been attracted to men. He’d noticed it in his brief time at M.I.T, then suppressed it during his tour with the Army. Mac hadn’t acted on it, or even labelled it. He wasn’t blind to himself though, he knew he was physically attracted to Murdoc. He didn’t know enough yet to say whether he had any romantic attraction to the man, but he knows enough not to deny that there may be something...more, a spark. Mac knew that spark had the potential to be fanned into a wildfire. Insanely dangerous, powerful,  destructive, and gorgeous in a terrifying way. </p><p> </p><p>Yeah, sounds like Murdoc. </p><p> </p><p>Eventually, the air became too cold for Mac to be comfortable, so Mac let the fire pit die out and went inside to the comforts of his bed. He changed into flannel sleep pants and checked his email on his cell phone.  He had a few new ones, but only one he cared about. </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>TO: Mac_Gyver@sendmail.com</strong> </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>FROM:TheDoc<a href="mailto:D.Murdoc@sendmail.com">@</a>q-mail.com</strong> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Angus, these questions are quite nice indeed! Although if you ever want to know my body count, kills or bedpartners, you only have to ask ;)</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I do have a few tattoos. Last count was 5. I have a snake one on my hip (my lovers are known to be fond of it). There’s also a dragon on my calf, Cassian’s birthday and his birth flower on my chest, a sword going down my spine, and a crown on my shoulder. I enjoy the tattooing process immensely.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> In high school I enjoyed history a lot, learning about different leaders, their conquests and battles. I also had good English teachers, I did well. I was, and still am, a bit of a bookworm.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I wasn’t an athlete in the traditional sense. In my town there was little else to do but have a ‘fight club’. So that’s what I grew up doing. I was a bit of a prodigy in that regard.  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em> That tattoo question got me thinking Angus. Do you have any? Try as I might, I can’t imagine you letting anyone use that tattoo gun on your body for hours on end.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Curious to hear your response, as always.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Fondly, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Murdoc </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Mac’s eyes and chest heated up as he slowly pieced apart Murdoc’s email. Those fucking <em> tattoos </em>. He was imagining Murdoc’s body, now with the added bonus of a snake coiling around his hip and a sword trailing down his spine, plus all of the other pieces permanently inked onto the man. Mac hit pause on that train of thought (because it would only lead to another shower moment), and looked at some other pieces from the email that stuck out to him. Mainly, the small flirtations Murdoc had peppered into the email. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Mentioning past lovers, inquiring Mac to ask the number.... </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Letting him know they loved that hip tattoo, the one Mac is trying to picture and burn into his eyelids.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Letting Mac know he was thinking of his body… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Mac felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, and he had two options. He could jump, and return Murdoc’s small flirtations with some of his own. Or, he could back away from the edge and pretend they weren’t there; chalk them up to meaningless musings from a psychopathic mind.</p><p> </p><p>To Mac, it felt like that concept of L'appel du Vide, or The Call of the Void. The desire to jump even when you don’t want to die. That seemed to describe his situation most accurately. He wanted nothing more than to take the jump, and surrender himself to the void; into Murdoc’s thrall and see where this seduction takes him. </p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t a smart play, he would be revealing another part of himself for Murdoc to potentially fixate onto and throw more messy emotions into this situation then there already was. </p><p> </p><p>Mac’s mind was a deadly weapon, no one would dare deny that. What most people didn’t know, was that his heart was just as strong. Mac knew deep in his soul, that his mind would not be the victor in many of these battles he was waging with himself when it came to Murdoc. The man flipped everything he knew, or he thought he knew, inside out.</p><p> </p><p>So Mac did the only thing that felt right, and let himself succumb to the call of the void.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Darkness and Light</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A peek into Murdoc's thoughts, dirty ones included! Smut is ahead, ya'll.</p><p>Sorry it took so long, wanted to get it right! </p><p>Let me know what you think! Comments, kudos, and bookmarks help me know that there is an interest in the story!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Murdoc has had a run of brilliant luck lately. After he finished eliminating his former Collective members, he set himself and Cassian up in a lovely Miami suburb to spend the remaining summer months together before Cassian went back to Europe for school. </p><p> </p><p>If he was being honest (he rarely is), he’d been planning to take some local contracts for the various cartels based out of Miami, but then a little blond minx responded to an email he’d sent out of boredom and turned everything in his life inside out. </p><p> </p><p>He had been on his sixth hour of waiting in a sniper perch across the street from a human trafficker base of operations. Needless to say, a bored psychopath is a recipe for disaster. Murdoc had found Angus’ email during his recon for the original hit on the agent. He hadn’t used it, opting to use his phone number instead. Murdoc fired off an email, not expecting anything to come from it. The email itself was untraceable, although Phoenix’s intrepid lil’ hacker Riley Davis would probably give it her best shot and get something from it.</p><p> </p><p>All in all, the email probably wasn’t a smart move. However, he missed Angus and that rush that he got when he was going against his nemesis. It was like electricity and fire running through every cell in his body. Angus was his perfect opposite, and they both were at their best when they were going against each other. The thing is, he was fairly confident that his boy scout felt what he felt. </p><p> </p><p>Despite his confidence in Angus enjoying their fights as much as he did, he doubted the man would respond to his taunts. Then, the same second his phone alerted him to a new email, was the same second he blew his targets head off of his disgusting little shoulders. </p><p> </p><p>Murdoc felt like that was an oddly delightful twist of fate. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>MacGyver was still hesitant; only agreeing to correspond with him on the clause that Murdoc not take any contracts as long as they’re talking. He’ll admit that he thought about lying to the boy scout and continuing his escapades, but when Mac said that he’d know and cut off contact, he decided not to risk it. </p><p> </p><p>This would be too much fun. </p><p> </p><p>Murdoc knew from the moment he met Angus that he was enamored by him. How could anyone not be? MacGyver has those All-American quarterback good looks. From the blue eyes that could stop anyone in their tracks, to the perfectly sculpted body that acted as both a fair impersonation of an ancient marble statue and a weapon. This was also before you even mentioned his brain, which should be labeled the eighth wonder of the world. </p><p> </p><p>Then his carnal feelings and desires began to warp into something new and unfamiliar to him. His desires started with simply wanting to ravish the agent and peel off Angus’ ridiculous jacket, so he can see his body quiver with bliss and pleasure. Mac was carved by the hands of angels and all Murdoc wanted to do was to use his own devilish hands to make the golden boy fall apart and scream his name </p><p> </p><p> Then he saw the beginnings of other emotions developing for his rival. Instead of feeling the need to tear MacGyver apart to see what made him tick, how his brain worked; he’d be satisfied just watching the man building those nifty little tools. He wanted to see what made him happy, angry (besides Murdoc himself, of course), excited, aroused. Murdoc just wanted more of Mac, he <em> needed </em> more. </p><p> </p><p>Unfortunately, he and Angus were on opposite sides of well, life. His object of affection was a government agent, and he was an assassin. Not to mention Mac was a very morally upright person, and he didn’t share that personality trait. He would classify his morals as virtually nonexistent. He was out for himself, moving from one kill and one payout to the next. Cassian was the only person his ‘morals’ applied to, and that ‘moral’ was simply that if anyone made his son unhappy, they were likely going to die. </p><p> </p><p>The email correspondence with Angus the past few days felt like the first few steps in a slow dance. He could feel Mac keeping him at a safe distance at first. Then, slowly but surely, Murdoc could feel the younger man letting his guard down. Mac was starting to open himself to the idea that there was more of Murdoc than just his role as his antagonist. The emails had been basic correspondence so far, but he could feel the potential for more. For more than just some comic book hero/villain dynamic. They were both too complex to subscribe to such roles. </p><p> </p><p>Murdoc needed some answers from his boy-scout; to see if he saw the potential for them that he did.  Murdoc doubted he did. He knew everybody has a little bit of darkness inside of them, even if they wear the white hat and call themselves the good guys. He just didn’t know how much Mac had in him, and if it was enough to let himself fall into bed, or even something more, with someone so completely dark as Murdoc.</p><p> </p><p>He had just finished putting Cassian to bed for the night when he got Mac’s next email. He let out a little noise of excitement when he saw it. This email was very important, as it would show whether Angus took his bait. He’d left some mild flirtations in his last email, to see if Mac would rise to the occasion or bow out. He wouldn’t deny that he’d be disappointed if his flirtations went unanswered, but a platonic cat and mouse game with his boy-scout would still be fun nonetheless. </p><p> </p><p>Sexual tension would just make it ten times more thrilling, though. </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>FROM:Mac_Gyver@sendmail.com</strong> </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>TO:TheDoc<a href="mailto:D.Murdoc@sendmail.com">@q-mail.com</a></strong> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Well Murdoc, I have to say that I understand why those lovers of yours must be so fond of that snake tattoo. It sounds like one hell of an image. Does it curve down your groin or wrap around your thigh?. That gave me a lot to think about. That sword down your back sounds very tempting as well.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> You’re right, I don’t have any tattoos. I’ve thought about it, just haven’t found the right piece for me. I don’t think I’d mind the pain too much. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What kind of piece could you see me having? Figure you’d know since you’ve been thinking about my body so much… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> -Mac  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> P.S Don’t worry, I’ve been thinking about your body too. In my shower, in my bed… </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Murdoc let out a soft moan when he finished that email. A smirk crossed his face as he felt his dick hardening in his jeans. He rubbed it softly through his pants, thanking all of the deities out there who dropped this brilliant, sexy, and positively <em> dirty minded </em>man into his life. </p><p> </p><p>So Angus had been thinking about him, huh? Imagining himself being seduced and corrupted? Oh, the supposedly innocent agent was always suprising Murdoc with a new trick, or a new side of him. Mac was supposed to be the kind of guy who didn't imagine himself being ravished by a cold blooded killer, but Murdoc was lucky Mac chose to ignore that.</p><p> </p><p>Murdoc locked his bedroom door and dimmed the lights, shedding his jeans and top onto his floor. The only light in the room was his phone’s screen, displaying Angus’ email for him like the light at the end of a dark tunnel. </p><p>He removed his boxers slowly and closed his eyes, hand stroking his cock that was growing harder by second as he pictured MacGyver’s body, the emotions on his model-quality face as he got lost in thralls of pleasure.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Gaining entry to MacGyver’s loft, walking just loud enough for Angus to hear his steps approaching his bedroom  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Pushing the door open slowly, revealing his target on the bed who’s not wearing anything but black boxers straining against his erection.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Murdoc walks up to him, standing at the foot of his bed. He slowly began to disrobe, dropping each article of clothing onto the floor until he stood naked.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Mac began to whimper, his hand rubbing himself through his boxers as Murdoc crawled onto the bed over him  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Murdoc grabbed Mac’s hands and pinned them to the headboard with a single hand.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I’m not gonna touch you until you tell me what you want, Angus. Use that big brain of yours” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Mac moaned and bucked his hips up, searching for any release. “I need you to kiss me, touch me, fuck me! I need everything Murdoc, please!” he half screamed, half begged.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Murdoc smiled and kissed Mac sweetly, and Mac nipped at his lip, asking for entry and Murdoc let their tongues touch and duel.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Then the kiss turned hotter, wetter and Murdoc let Mac’s hands go free. They instantly went to Murdoc’s body. Running through his hair, tracing his tattoos with those fucking lithe fingers.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Murdoc broke the kiss and kissed Mac’s nose when he whined in protest. “Don’t worry, boy scout. More where that came from”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Mac grew impatient, flipping Murdoc under him and grinding his ass down on Murdoc’s crotch until both were panting and moaning. Murdoc growled and ripped off Mac’s boxers with his bare hands </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Both men grinded against each other, chasing the same high. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Their mouths never parted except to moan and then scream when they both came </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Murdoc bit into his palm to muffle the noises and his vision whited out as he came.</p><p> </p><p>After he came back down to earth he could only laugh, walk to the shower and start brainstorming his response email to Angus.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Price of Playing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is just a small update to tide you guys over until the next chapter!</p><p>Sorry for the delay, classes are crazy! Don't worry, I won't be giving up on the story. Updates may just get spread out over time until classes end in early May. </p><p>In the meantime, keep up comments, likes and bookmarks! Those let me know I have an audience for the story.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mac was lying on his bed, taking the shape of a chalk body outline at a crime scene. He looked like a fallen angel who had crashed landed to earth from the heavens. Mac was trying to calm his beating heart that was sending blood through his body so fast he could hear it in his ears. </p><p> </p><p>He had done it. He took a leap of faith and flirted with Murdoc, revealing his darkest desires to the man who caused them. It was an insanely stupid play, but he could feel their emotions pushing towards that end result. He was only a man. Who was he to stand in front of fate and tell it no. It was bound to happen. Mac’s suppression of his desires would only have resulted in a less controlled and increasingly explosive proclamation of lust later down the road. At the end of the day, what Mac did was the best option available. </p><p> </p><p>At least, that’s what he was telling himself. </p><p> </p><p>Mac’s internal war of emotions was interrupted by the lock retracting on his front door and footsteps. “Mac, where are you at?” Bozer shouted from the front door. Mac slid his phone under the pillows and on his way to great Bozer, closed his laptop screen. He’d add some increased security later on. Bozer didn’t make a habit out of using his laptop, since he did have some classified materials on their Bozer wasn’t privy to, but better not to risk it. </p><p> </p><p>He joined Bozer by the firepit, and slowly the rest of Phoenix came along and joined them. First it was Riley, then Jack and Matty. Beer was flowing and the fire crackled in the afternoon air. Jack was delivering a spirited play by play of their last mission. “Then, these mafia guys showed up as Riley was retrieving the finals. Bozer was in the getaway car so yours truly had to take them out by my lonesome. There were twenty of them, right-” Jack was cut off by Matty and Riley’s joint protest. </p><p> </p><p>“Jack, there were six of them”- </p><p>“Dalton, that is such bullshit” - </p><p> </p><p>Mac and Bozer laughed as Jack sputtered, trying to cover his ass as Matty and Riley ripped him a new one. The laughter surrounded the team like a warm shield and Mac sighed, content and happy to be reunited with his team, his family, once again. Then the realization hit, like a dagger slicing through the good mood surrounding Mac. </p><p> </p><p>He could lose this if they ever found out about Murdoc. </p><p> </p><p>He could imagine it now, the looks in their eyes, the judgment seeping out of each and every one of their pores. They’d look at him with a unique and deadly mixture of horror, disgust, and betrayal. He didn’t want to imagine how damaged their friendships would be. Hell, he’d be lucky if they ever spoke to him again. </p><p> </p><p>Mac shifted slightly, trying to pull himself out of his head and rejoin the joking conversation his team was having. “Ready to get back to work next week, blondie?” Matty asked and Mac nodded “I’ve been working on a DARPA project that’s keeping me busy, but I’m ready for some field work” he said and Jack raised a beer bottle to him. “That’s my boy, working on a top secret project isn’t even enough to satisfy that big brain of his” Jack said and the team raised their bottles, laughing. That warm feeling came back again, but instead of a shield, it felt like a blanket, smothering him with their expectations. </p><p> </p><p>They needed him to be a soldier, an agent, a scientist. He could be all those things, easily. They came naturally for him and he was happy to be them. They also needed him to be a good person. </p><p> </p><p>He didn’t know if he was one anymore. He was being selfish, trying to decipher a personal puzzle at the expense of letting the world's best murderer remain free. He was tied to Murdoc in some way, except the knot connecting them was tangled and stuck together with something damn near unbreakable. </p><p> </p><p>Even faced with what he was scared of most, losing his family, he knew that he couldn’t bow out of his game with Murdoc. Once he met a problem he couldn’t solve he hyperfocused on it. His cat and mouse game with Murdoc was more enticing than any problem he’s solved before. </p><p> </p><p>He just hoped that whether he won or lost his game with Murdoc, he didn’t lose his family as a result. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Back into the frying pan</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the weeks-long delay! I am officially done with final exams and working on some new chapters. I just wanted to give you guys a little something while I work on the rest. The next chapter will drop later tonight or tomorrow. </p><p>Mac's going under to do some seduction. Murdoc will definitely have his fun with this once Mac tells him, and you know Mac will ;) </p><p>Keep up those likes, comments, and bookmarks! They mean the world to me :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Mac took a deep breath and sighed, a relaxed smile on his face. “Good to be back, huh?” he said to Jack, who just rolled his eyes. “Not the time, kid!” Jack whisper-screamed back. Mac acknowledged that was true since they were breaking and entering into a foreign dignitaries  hotel room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matty laughed on the other end of the line before returning to the serious boss they know and love. “Okay boys, Riley and Bozer are tailing Minister Clemente now, he just arrived at a cafe. Looks like he’s meeting some men, Riley- grab some photos and get an I.D” Matty said, and Riley’s answer was the noise of a camera shutter going off. “I’ll transfer them to the software now. I doubt they’re boy scouts if they’re brunching with a guy like Clemente”. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Minister Michael Clemente is a Frenchman working for the United Nations. Clemente and several other European U.N workers are in Miami for a conference. This conference was the perfect opportunity for Phoenix to get their hands on him. Clemente had long been suspected of belonging to the upper echelon of a drug-smuggling organization that had been a scourge on Europe for the past eighteen months. He has been untouchable due to his U.N association, but French authorities were able to detain one of his lovers who told them that Clemente keeps the logs of his dubious transactions inside of his diplomatic pouch that can’t be seized. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With the number of European citizens falling victim to Clemente’s drug enterprise growing by the day, Phoenix had been given the green light to steal the evidence against Clemente.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack and Mac began searching every crevice of Clemente’s hotel suite, looking for his diplomatic pouch. Mac tossed open the door to the closet and began to examine the safe. “Boze to check his car, we got nothing in the living area and bathroom. Checking the bedroom now” Jack murmured into the comms. “Copy that” Bozer said and Mac started looking for the necessary items to get into the rooms safe. He found a speaker in the television set and rigged it to the area around the dial, allowing him to hear the pins click into place. After that, he easily opened the safe. Unfortunately, there was no pouch. “The pouch isn’t in the safe, sending photographs of the contents to the cloud” Mac said and quickly replaced the safe and speaker to leave no trace of their breaking and entering. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Guys, got hits on Clemente’s brunch guests. Lucian Soto, Zachary Right, and Pablo Ramirez. All suspected affiliates of the Columbian cartel. Each has rap sheets for drug trafficking offenses and also violent crimes from battery to multiple homicides” Riley said. Bozer then piped up “Nothing in the car, put a tracker in and also on the Cartel guys car”. “Good, that may be able to tell us how Columbians are getting drugs into Europe. Boys, if there is nothing in the hotel room, get out of there”. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The team convened in their own hotel suite and started analyzing the data they found. “Okay, so the safe contents were some legit U.N paperwork, an external drive we cloned, and his planner”. Riley said and started scanning the data from the external drive. Mac analyzed the planner and found an appointment for after the conference events of today. “It says he’s going to Club Desire at 10 tonight:” Mac said and Matty whistled over the video call. “Heard of that place. It’s a club frequented by a lot of powerful and secretive government figures. Secure, discreet, sexually indiscriminate, it’s a spy’s playground” Matty said, and a thoughtful look took over her face. “Oh no, what’s that look, Matty?” Jack asked and Matty brought up the mugshot of Clemente’s lover who they turned for information in France. “Young, male, attractive. Sound like anyone we know?” Matty asked her employees and before anyone could answer, cut off Jack who had just begun to puff up his chest. “Not you, Dalton. Talking about Blondie” she said, with an eye roll. Jack looked mildly offended but clapped Mac’s back. “Guess you’re going to seduce a drug dealer, kid” he said and Mac looked up at the ceiling and said “Lucky me”.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span> “He has to be keeping that pouch on his person, we tailed him all over and he’s had no chance to stash it anywhere. This is the best bet” Matty said and Mac nodded, the logic sound. “I’ll do it”, he said and Matty bestowed some mercy on him. “You don’t have to sleep with him, blondie. Just get him out of a few layers and see where he has it”. “Won’t let you down, boss” The young agent said, and then was dismissed to go find some suitable clubbing attire. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. A Vision in Black</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here's the chapter! We have a lot of emails in this one. Sorry for the cliffhanger, didn't want to leave too long a chapter! Next one will be coming at you soon. </p><p>Leave likes, comments and make sure to bookmark. Love hearing from you folks.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mac was going through the clothes in his suitcase, not finding exactly what he was looking for. Riley had given him the seal of approval for one particular outfit (in a sisterly fashion), but he didn’t think it would give him the right look that a man like Clemente would be interested in. </p><p> </p><p>He flopped down on his hotel bed and groaned like a wounded man. Riley had returned to her room to look for electronic evidence on Clemente while Bozer set up some extra surveillance in the Club while it was still closed. Jack had opted to keep tailing the Cartel guys Clemente had met with. That left Mac to try and prepare for his seduction operation while Matty got her hands on a backstory for him. </p><p> </p><p>Mac saw a new email from Murdoc and those nerves he was feeling shifted from mild fear and tension into excitement and a much more preferable kind of tension. </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>TO: Mac_Gyver@sendmail.com</strong> </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>FROM:TheDoc<a href="mailto:D.Murdoc@sendmail.com">@</a>q-mail.com</strong> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Naughty Angus! I must say, I was surprised at your forwardness but not at all displeased by it. It certainly excited me and gave me an exhilarating scenario to think about. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The snake tattoo does curve down my leg and near other fun places, I’ll have to show you sometime. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>A tattoo on you? Hmm, I could imagine a formula on your pectoral or an inked fox scampering across your body in several places. You remind me of a fox, lithe, and smart but subtly mischievous. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I’m curious as to how you’re spending your time recovering or are you back at work already?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Fondly, </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Murdoc</em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Mac let out a breathy noise and then wiped his hand across his face as a warm heat traveled across his body. The assassin had an almost chemical power over his body. Just a few teasing words from Murdoc had his body yearning for more of his torrid paragraphs. </p><p> </p><p>He needed to direct that energy somewhere else tonight though. Mac focused some of that ‘mischievous’ nature that Murodoc claimed he had into his next email. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>FROM:Mac_Gyver@sendmail.com</strong> </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>TO:TheDoc<a href="mailto:D.Murdoc@sendmail.com">@q-mail.com</a></strong> </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p><em>I'm back at work already. Going on a mission later tonight. I have to seduce this suspected drug smuggler. Apparently, I’m his type. Trying to find the right look now. Don’t suppose you have an idea of what I could wear to attract a dangerous older man into a private room with me?</em> <em><br/>
<br/>
</em></p><p>
  <em>-Mac</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Mac tossed the phone aside and laid out all of the possible clothes that he could wear into a clubbing environment. Spies often traveled with something that could be used for every possible occasion. So he did have some clubbing clothes, but his options were limited to clothes with style more suited for Miami’s sketchier clubs. From what had been described to him by previous intelligence reports, Club Desire was more upper class than what he had, which was more akin for Miami’s lower-class beach parties.</p><p> </p><p>He needed to go shopping. </p><p> </p><p>Matty called him on his way to the mall around the corner.  “Hey Matty, picking up some new clothes for the operation tonight. Any update on the cover identity?” he said and Matty briefed him. “Yeah, you’re Robert “Robbie” Powell. 25, a student at the University of Miami studying International Relations. You have a 3.0 GPA, in the Tau Delta Phi fraternity and interning at the Miami D.A’s office. The District Attorney is a buddy of mine who vouched for you and slipped your name onto the admittance list”.  Mac had to laugh “3.0 and a frat guy?”. Matty smiled and said “It’s his type, values a pretty face over the ability to make a real-life lightsaber. Go buy some pretty clothes, blondie” She said and ended the call.</p><p> As Mac walked into the mall, he saw a new email notification and opened it, finding a place on a bench that was out of the way of the packs of teenagers converging on the Starbucks and the movie theatre. </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">TO: Mac_Gyver@sendmail.com</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">FROM:TheDoc<a href="mailto:D.Murdoc@sendmail.com">@</a>q-mail.com</span> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Well, Angus. I must say I’m jealous of this drug smuggler of yours. I do not doubt that you’re the right man for the job, you’re certainly quite the minx. You’ve enraptured me easily, and imaging anyone else admiring you the way I do makes me furiously possessive. I do understand it’s your job, so here’s my advice on how to gain his attention. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I’d recommend something subtle but promises more. A form-fitting shirt that calls attention to your biceps and chest, and tight pants for the same line of reasoning. You wouldn’t want to start with that though, maybe wear a jacket and then remove it when you begin to seduce him. Seeing those previously hidden areas will drive him wild, trust me. He’ll want to see what else you have hidden. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>There’s your perfect opportunity to get what you need, then break his hands for daring to touch you :)</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I hope you’ll share some photos of this ensemble after your little club escapade. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Fondly,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Murdoc </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>P.S- I do hope that imbecile keeps his flirtations to a minimum, I am the jealous type.</em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Mac’s reaction to Murdoc’s self admittance of jealousy probably shouldn’t have been received by something akin to attraction. Making a man like Murdoc jealous is as smart as poking a bear, but he can’t deny that it ignites something inside a dark part of him. Mac won’t deny it, he’s excited at the concept that something he does makes Murdoc break the thin mask he wears for society, and reveal the predator that is underneath. He likes the chase, the fight, but just hates the people who get caught in the crossfire. </p><p> </p><p>Mac mentally took down Murdoc’s fashion advice and went on his way, definitely planning on using these for the seduction of a second criminal at a later date (one he’d definitely prefer to end seduce instead of Clemente). As he made his way through the various stores, he wondered what Murdoc would say if he was walking with Mac through the clothing racks, tossing out remarks that easily roll his silver tongue. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em> Well Angus, that shirt is too garish to seduce anyone  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Oooh, this little black number would be delectable on you </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Now hear me out, I know these are practically skin tight but you’d be irresistible in them </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>A pleased thrill ran down his spine as he dragged his hands along the fabric of the clothing, imagining Murdoc’s behind him as he chose what to wear. He just radiates an energy about him. Whenever they were in the same room it feels like a live wire crackling between them and the resulting feeling promises endless possibilities between them. </p><p> </p><p>Mac’s phone chirped with a text alert, an address where Matty was sending him to pick up the ID documents for his cover identity of the night. He made quick work, purchasing his club outfit and stopping at the ID shop to grab his license for Robert Powell before making way back to the hotel room to prepare himself for the evening. </p><p> </p><p>He stripped, dropping his normal ensemble of the jeans, button-up shirts, and the jacket Murdoc despises onto his hotel floor. He kept the boxers and slid a pair of black and bleach stained ripped, and significantly tighter fitting, jeans onto his toned legs. They were perfectly on the border of respectable enough to fit in but seductive enough to catch Clemente’s eye. He buttoned up a matching black shirt with gold threading along the collar and lining, the sleeves were short and hugged his biceps. He evaluated himself in the mirror that hung on the closet door. He remembered Murdoc’s advice, about having something to remove, to tease Clemente with.</p><p> </p><p>Mac grabbed the last item from his shopping bag, a thin leather jacket with metallic studs scattered around it. He tossed it onto his shoulders and took out his phone, grabbing a photo in the mirror. Mac had just finished attaching into an email when Bozer opened the door of their shared room and said: “Hey, briefing in Riley and Jack’s room before the op- damn you look fly!” Mac laughed and said, “I’ll meet you there, gotta finish becoming Robbie”. Bozer fist bumped him and left him alone once again. Mac read over the email once more than hit send. </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>FROM:Mac_Gyver@sendmail.com</strong> </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>TO:TheDoc<a href="mailto:D.Murdoc@sendmail.com">@q-mail.com</a></strong> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>[IMAGE.JPEG ATTACHED] </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Took your advice, hope you like what you see. I’m about to go on the op now. Wish me luck. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>-Mac </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Mac slid his current ID and named cards into the rooms safe, and substituted them for his cover ones. He jogged out of the room and across the hallway, knocking on a neighboring room. He was let into the room by Bozer and immediately subjected to some wolf whistles and appreciative noises from his teammate when they gathered for the preoperative briefing. “Damn Mac, guys not gonna be able to keep his drug-dealing hands off of you” Jack said and Mac shoved him jokingly. “You have to link up with Clemente early on, Blondie. He’ll keep everyone else off of you” Matty said and he nodded. Jack ran through the movements of the cartel associates Clemente had met with. He had followed them to a few different locations where drugs were stored and saw them carry out large bags from each of the locations to a container at the Port of Miami.</p><p>“They weren’t the only ones doing that. A couple of other guys came when they were dropping off duffel bags of drugs. Saw them talking to a guy in a suit and sliding him some cash. Probably a customs official of some kind” Jack said and Riley pulled up his picture.</p><p> </p><p> “William Foye, 50, I.C.E official specializing in European customs. He clears them on this end and probably has Clemente handle it the European side and clears customs then. Clemente could do that with his power” Riley said and Matty nodded. “I’ll work with the French to confirm. Tracker on Clemente’s car says he’s at Club Desire now. Get over there Mac, and get that pouch. Jack, find a perch outside the club and provide a perimeter. Riley and Bozer, I slid you onto the employment rosters as a dishwasher and a bartender. Give our boy some cover. Fan out! I want that pouch, people” Matty said, and the camera feed cut out. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Jack drove both Mac and himself to the Club, the plan being to park about two blocks away and go their separate ways. The ride was comfortably silent, Jack’s familiarity with Mac’s behavior leads him to leave Mac his own devices before he has to become someone else. He gets that Mac isn’t really ‘Mac’ right now. </p><p> </p><p>Mac haphazardly checked his phone one last time before he switched out the SIM card for his cover identity. He saw a new email and debated if he should check it before he went in. On one hand, Jack, his CIA trained friend with good observational skills, was sitting right next to him. On the other hand, Jack’s eyes were on the road and Mac <em> really </em>wanted to see what Murdoc had said.  Mac lowered his phone’s brightness and quickly opened the email. </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">TO: Mac_Gyver@sendmail.com</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">FROM:TheDoc<a href="mailto:D.Murdoc@sendmail.com">@</a>q-mail.com</span> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Oh, my. A vision in black. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>That little glimpse of your collarbone and the way your muscles still bulge through the jacket are pure sin, my dear. Don’t get me started on those pants or this email will turn into a sonnet. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>In conclusion, save that outfit. You and I will have fun with it later </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em>Beware of the feral animals on that operation. No doubt their minds will be rampant with sinful designs on you. Trust</em> <em>me, I'll tell you all about them later. </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Fondly, </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Murdoc</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Mac smirked mildly and changed out the card on his phone, sliding the SIM card into the sole of his shoe where there was a small, Phoenix issue compartment. He popped the new card into his phone, leaving his phone as Robbie's instead of Mac's. Mac hoped Jack wasn’t a mind reader because his thoughts were echoing some plans for explicit phone sex with Phoenix’s public enemy number one. </p><p>The second “Robbie” stepped into the club, he put Mac into the back of his mind and embraced the softly pulsating club lights in shades of pale blues and deep purples and the music created a sultry atmosphere throughout the club. He could feel pairs of eyes on him and reveled in it. His eyes scanned the club, looking for Clemente. He found him in an area on a mildly raised platform towards the back of the club. It had an ‘L’ shaped sofa and was roped off by a velvet rope. Clemente’s eyes were locked on him like he had tunnel vision. Robbie smirked, eyed him up and down in an appraising manner. He licked his lips for extra effect and Clemente didn’t even hesitate to wave him over. </p><p> </p><p>Game on. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The Game: Phase One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Divided the chapter into two parts. Here's part one. Part two is coming in a few days.</p><p>Leave kudos, comments, and make sure to bookmark! </p><p>Thanks for being so loyal, us rare-pairing fans have to stick together!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span> “Robbie” sunk easily into the music, allowing his body to move easily with the pulsing and seductive beats. He moved akin to a cat on the prowl as he joined Clemente in his private booth. “Thanks, big guy” he said, tracing his finger down the bouncers pectoral. As Robbie stood in front of Clemente, the Frenchman smiled at him wickedly. A chill ran through his body as he felt Clemente’s dark eyes examining him like a butcher about to carve into a slab of meat. “Even more delectable up close” Clemente murmured in his smooth accent, extending his hand to curve along Robbie’s hip as he pulled Robbie to sit next to him. Robbie went pliant and let the man guide him into the black leather sofa. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s your name, dear?” Clemente whispered into his ear, tracing the line of his jaw with a single finger. “I’m Robbie. What about you?” Robbie said, adding a breathy quality to his voice that added to a portrayal of youthful excitement that Clemente seemed to enjoy. “I’m Michael Clemente, it’s a pleasure to meet you” he said, pressing a light kiss to Robbie’s pulse point on his wrist. “Oh” he said in a soft, pleased voice. Clemente grinned in an animalistic fashion “Have your past lovers never done that for you, dear?” he said, letting his fingers trace the area of Robbie’s wrist that his lips had previously occupied. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. We usually just got right down to the main act. They didn’t like to play much beforehand” Robbie said, sounding disappointed. Clemente ate it up. “Oh my, those fools clearly didn’t know how to appreciate a specimen such as yourself. So many fun parts to play with” he said, his voice growing heavier with arousal as he continued to let his hands wander over Robbie’s hair, face, and body. Robbie decided to reciprocate, in order to hopefully speed up the encounter and complete his mission. Feeling Clemente’s eyes burning into him, he shrugged off his top layer, leaving his biceps exposed to his target's eyes. “My, my, my. I love you American boys, such specimens” Clemente said, letting his hands explore the bare skin Robbie presented to him. Robbie smirked, popping the top button on his shirt, exposing his bare collarbone and taking a sort of perverse pleasure in the flush that came over Clemente’s face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “What a little tease you are” the Minister murmured, tracing Robbie’s collarbone with his finger. Robbie took this opportunity to get closer to Clemente, until he’s nearly in the man's lap. Clemente welcomed this greedily, wrapping an arm around the younger man. He continued to run his hands over Robbie in a fashion similar to someone tracing the carved marble muscles of the statue of David. “What do you do, Robbie?” Clemente said, his lips brushing against the shell of Robbie’s ear. “I’m a grad student, I intern at the D.A’s office as well” he said back, letting his own lips copy Clemente’s previous actions. Clemente purred “A young man of intellect, how enticing”. Robbie preened and Clemente stood, extending a hand to Robbie. “How about we take this to a more private setting?” Robbie took it and let Clemente guide him out of the booth. He did a quick scan of the room, clocking Bozer at the bar and Riley by the staff door. Bozer met his eyes and cocked his head towards a window on the left side of the Club. Robbie subtly checked the window and saw a tall building outside it. That must be where Jack’s posted on the rooftop. Robbie saw a small red light turn on the building's roof, so small no one would notice if they didn’t know to look for it. It was the laser sight from Jack’s rifle. The light flickered twice before going dark, and he smiled. He could tell the message behind it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I got you, buddy. Hang in there. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Robbie was guided up the staircase towards the private rooms, he let his hyper-functioning brain explore a hypothetical scenario. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What if Murdoc was here? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d be lurking in the shadows (like he is known to do) watching ‘Robbie’ be pawed at by Clemente. Murdoc would only be able to watch for so long until his cold interior would start to fall prey to his darker impulses. He could imagine with ease how Murdoc would coil up, finding his way towards the private rooms. Murdoc is silent as he moves, like he’s not quite present. He never lets anyone know he’s there, except with that little tune he whistles when he wants to see the fear in their eyes. That’s only for when he wants his victims to realize they’re in his crosshairs. Mac suspects he’d watch from the shadows for a moment or two, watching him. The second Clemente made a move to touch him, he’d strike like lightning and incapacitate Clemente. Before Mac could even realize that there was a new man with him, Murdoc would be on him and making him forget any pleasure he’d possibly have gained from Clemente. He’d be eager, so much so that his control would be impeded. His normally steady hands would shake, Mac could probably feel his blood rushing under his scarred and tattooed skin. His breath would waver and his voice would be tight. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Naughty Angus, showing this off to someone else</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This little parasite is nothing, he couldn’t please you</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m gonna make you forget all about him. You’ll never think of someone else when you’re stripped and wanting like this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Robbie stopped himself from going any further down that enticing train of thought, considering he’d just entered the private room with Clemente.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Time to enter phase two of this little dance.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. The Game: Phase Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Time for some backroom club fun!</p>
<p>Next chapter- Mac and Murdoc take their online connection to the next level</p>
<p>Leave kudos, comments, and make sure to bookmark!</p>
<p>Thanks for the consistent support!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The room was painted in a deep maroon color and lowly lit. There was a small sitting area around a glass table with a drink tray on top of it. What was more telling were the napkins under the drinks. They were both a royal purple, but one had a minuscule rip in the corner. That was the one meant for Clemente. Bozer had mixed it with Rohypnol to incapacitate their target. That would knock out Clemente long enough for him to search his person and recover the diplomatic pouch. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Robbie took the drink meant for himself and drank it as Clemente circled him, slowly undoing the buttons on Robbie’s shirt. He seemed to get more excited by each new inch of skin exposed. Robbie finished his drink and handed Clemente the tainted one. “Finish it so you can put your mouth somewhere more fun” he whispered into his ear. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clemente’s already lust-blown eyes glazed over even more. He downed the drink easily, and Robbie lightly pushed him down onto the sofa. He tossed off his shirt, revealing his defined chest. Clemente all but purred. “Perfect, an Adonis” and Robbie laughed, blushing. He started teasing at the button on his pants. “If you want this, you have to return the favor” Robbie said and Clemente smiled “You’re lucky I like blondes” he said teasingly, stripping off his suit jacket and shirt. Clemente’s chest was toned and decorated with dark hair. Robbie straddled him and Clemente guided him into a kiss.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Robbie put his effort into it, making it as believable as it needed to be. His mark seemed to</span>
  <span> buy it, moving his lips down Robbie’s neck. Robbie took this time to observe Clemente’s discarded clothes on the sofa about a foot away from them. His suit jacket was laying open, and Robbie noticed a thin pocket sewn into the back portion of the jacket. From his angle, he could see a corner of the diplomatic pouch protruding from the secret pocket. All he needed to do was wait for the drugs in Clemente’s drink to take hold.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The kissing grew heavier, and Clemente’s hands wandered to Robbie’s pants and teased him through the fabric. Robbie swore and moaned, desperate for contact. Clemente’s movements eventually stilled then ceased. Robbie stood up and laid his target down on the couch. He quickly grabbed the pouch, unzipping it, and confirming the presence of the information they needed. Robbie redressed himself, hiding the pouch at the small of his back under his jacket. He quickly headed out of the private rooms and made eye contact with Bozer as he returned to the main area of the club. Robbie winked and Bozer chuckled, and both men exited the bar. Bozer through the employee back exit with Riley meeting him, and Robbie through the front door.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Game over </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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